The fragrant old candle is a calming remedy used in many cultures to soothe the mind. Common form of candles and oils in salons, or cheap spas use these in a pseudo attempt to replicate the real deal of Aromatherapy. Although so widely used, yet I do not know of much people who have a memory, rather memoirs attached to the smell of an old candle. I do.. and I never knew I did.
So what was it? Phirangipani, Chempaka, Lemongrass or Jasmine. No, I cant recognise the note. It was a box of candles given by a friend in the year 2005. The box was barely opened and was conveniently shoved back in the storeroom to gather neglect and dust, so kindly once gifted by a loved one and at once forgotten over the busy years to follow. I reluctantly opened the box, only recently, hoping to find them crumbled for easy disposal of 'stored trash'. I found them usable. Half-heartily, decided to light them up as an offering to the altar. I used a few in the coming weeks and they were functional. Nothing happened which can remind me that these were from the past decade. One evening, recent past, after a long day and a warm long shower, I lit another and for the first time sniffed the tail of a grassy flowery and persistent smell of the red pellets of wax. At first it was like a denial, when my forgotten past events were crawling back to life. Then gradually as the minutes ticked by, their manifestation was too strong to ignore. The odoriferous intoxication was embarrassing for a busy rational mind. Was I being hormonal, melodramatic or bored?? I kept asking myself. But the cinematoscopic reeling of the past, the good, the bad and the ugly .. were flowing out like nectar from a ripe flower, pressed and sweetened over time, then the thin membrane dissolving with age pulling down the liquid by gravity.
The reminiscence of the events scorching my soul, soothing my senses and calming the restlessness, of daily conundrums. The lost grandparents, the forgotten father, the village life I once witnessed, few vacations with my mother and her friends, the days of passion and violence, the days when I was younger and restless, the search for a better-bigger-prosperous future, the money craze, the greed, the lust, the love, the hurt, the lost lives and innocence, lost friends and new beginnings, the wedding(s), the books, the movies, the taste of salty savouries shared with cousins on a cold winter afternoon, the once dreamy-eyed-skinny-girl peeped out the corner of my head. Now so poised by ever-developing life events, dressed and made-up perfectly to suit the 'always-tuned-in' lifestyle. Once spontaneous and thriving on emotions, to the rational being of decisions. So many stories, with no beginning or end. All these bought back, by just a candle. May be that is the reason they say, "Let there be light"
Until next time....
